


an A for effort

by asbestosgang



Category: Red Letter Media, RedLetterMedia RPF, redlettermedia
Genre: Anniversary, Beer, Boys Being Boys, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluffy Ending, Gay, M/M, No Smut, guys being dudes, happy gay men, hell yeah beer tag, maybe too fluffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:25:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23470114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asbestosgang/pseuds/asbestosgang
Summary: It's their anniversary! Neither of them know what they're doing. But they DO know they're in love. And love is pretty nice.
Relationships: Mike Stoklasa/Jay Bauman, Mike/Jay
Comments: 10
Kudos: 30





	an A for effort

Mike Stoklasa was not a romantic man. He didn’t do grand gestures of affection; he didn’t do gestures at all, really. It’s not like Jay was mad about it—he wasn’t inclined to be very sappy either, and at this point, something like that would probably just embarrass him. But they both seemed to treat their relationship to such an abnormally casual extent that despite being labeled as “dating”, Jay sometimes wondered if they were more like friends with benefits. Hell, Mike rarely kissed him, and never in public. Again, he wasn’t super bothered. He was fine with that kind of romance. 

But maybe it would be nice. To do something a little bit sappy for once.

So here Jay was, standing in the grocery store at 4 in the afternoon, staring so hard at the array of vibrant bouquets in front of him that they started blurring together into one noisy smear of color.

“Shit,” he muttered, giving up and pacing in front of the display. Other customers were watching him idly, some with confusion and mild fear, others sympathetically—they’d been there before, trying to win back an ex or apologize after a fight.

“She mad at you?” A customer asked, also looking at the flowers—albeit out of Jay’s way. He stopped, glancing at her. 

“Sorry. I don’t mean to pry,” she backpedaled.

“Nah, I, uh...I’ve never bought flowers before. For, uh, her. I don’t even know if she’ll like them,” Jay stammered. The stranger smiled.

“Never? That’s exciting. I wouldn’t worry too much about it. It’s really the thought that counts—I’m sure she’ll be happy with them because she knows you’re trying.”

What an optimistic person. Of course, they didn’t know that Jay was buying flowers for a man who could just as easily make fun of him for doing so. This was a mistake. His face flushed, and he scowled.

“I think I’ll just...buy some beer or something,” he muttered, hurrying away, because this was embarrassing.

“That’s not very romantic,” she called after him, her tone light. 

Jay grabbed a six-pack of beer, because fuck it—with this, he knew exactly how Mike would react. They’d drink, maybe have sex, and their anniversary would be over just like any other day. Mike probably didn’t even remember. Flowers? What was he thinking? That was so stupid, so juvenile.

Jay checked out, completely confident in his choice of present. He went out to his car, setting the booze down in the backseat.

He paused.

The roses _were_ on sale...

But Jay had never done anything like this before. How would Mike react? What if he just felt uncomfortable or embarrassed? What if he really had forgotten, and now Jay was going to show up with a very awkward reminder? Plus, it’s flowers. And Mike was a guy. Wait, was that sexist? Shit. Okay, scratch that. Maybe _Mike_ didn’t like flowers. Then the gift would be a waste, and Jay would feel bad for not knowing that Mike didn’t like flowers. On the other hand, what if he did? What kind? Did it matter? How should Jay know? He’s never done anything like this before!

But he wanted to try. For Mike, he was going to try. 

Jay stormed back into the store, his face on fire, fists clenched. Forcing himself into a state of single-minded determination, he marched up to the case and snatched the first bouquet of roses he saw.

“Oh, not those!”

He jumped, startled out of his stubborn trance. It was the stranger again, holding a small arrangement with an assortment of flowers he didn’t know the names of. He paused, bravado torn away.

“Why not?”

“Those are wilting a little. The best-looking ones are those, I think,” she suggested, pointing at the bouquet next to the one Jay had picked.

“Oh. Thanks,” Jay coughed, switching them.

“I think she’ll be really happy with those,” they offered encouragingly. Jay gripped the roses so hard he could feel the thorns pressed against his skin, not quite breaking through.

“God, I hope so,” he sighed, taking the bouquet with him to check out (again).

The ride to Mike’s apartment was tense and nerve-wracking, because Jay kept looking over at the flowers in the passenger’s seat. It wasn’t too late, technically—he could still throw them out somewhere before Mike could see them. Should he? Shouldn’t he? His head was going to explode if he kept thinking about this. He just needed to make a decision and stick with it. The anxiety was killing him—and over flowers!

Wasn’t this supposed to be easy?

When he got to the apartment, Jay ended up holding the flowers in one hand and the pack of beer in the other, praying to God that he’d made the right decision. Instead of knocking or ringing the bell, he decided to kick it a few times, waiting for Mike to come out, hiding the flowers behind his back.

“Who the fuck is it?” Mike hollered from inside.

“Who the fuck do you think?” Jay fired back, and Mike threw open the door. Immediately, he knew something was off—Mike’s face was bright red, and he was sweating, bandages littering his hands.

“Are you okay?” Jay asked, forgetting about the roses. Mike coughed, not letting him in yet. 

“I’m—I’m fine, what the fuck’re you doing here?” He snapped. Jay raised an eyebrow. Maybe he should keep the roses for himself. He held out the drinks, and Mike snatched them, still blocking the doorway.

“...can I come in or what?” Jay asked sharply. Mike paused, glancing back at something, and Jay’s pulse spiked.

“Don’t laugh,” he muttered, letting Jay in. The first thing he noticed as he stepped inside, still hiding the roses behind his back, was the kitchen. 

And how could he not? There were dishes and utensils scattered everywhere. Smoke was billowing from the stove, the window open in an attempt to clear it out. Two charred lumps rested in a pan, still sizzling. There was blood on the cutting board—that explained the bandages. Pieces of food were spilled across the counter. 

“Did you, uh, try to cook?” Jay asked, his voice as neutral as he could make it. He couldn’t help it—a smile crept up from the corner of his lips.

“Laugh and you’re gonna eat it,” Mike warned.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. But why does it look like you’re cooking for Thanksgiving?” Jay snorted, before pausing. He’d been exaggerating, obviously, but there was enough food for two people.

“Shut up,” Mike grumbled, looking away as Jay blushed.

“I tried to do somethin’ nice for our, uh. Anniversary. It wasn’t supposed to be a big deal or anything. Just...dinner.”

So he did remember. Before Jay could stop himself (though he didn’t really want to), he held out the bouquet.

Mike’s eyes widened, and he glanced around nervously, like he was worried this was a trick.

“I tried, too,” Jay replied, lip quirking. Mike seemed to be trying to figure out what to say. 

“I—I, uh. Those are for me?”

“No, I’d like you to give them to Rich next time you see him,” Jay quipped, and Mike narrowed his eyes. Oh, right. Anniversary. He should probably be a little nice. 

“Yes, they’re for you. Took a long damn time to pick ‘em out,” he grumbled, trying to mask how vulnerable and unsure he felt. He couldn’t tell if Mike liked them or not, and the awkward silence was freaking him out. Had he done it wrong?

“...um. Do you like—“

“Can I kiss you?”

Jay froze, startled.

“Wh—um—yeah?”

With that, Mike stepped forward and kissed him, hard, pulling him so close Jay was worried they were going to squish the flowers. When he pulled away, Jay was left breathless.

“I guess you like them?” He asked, still stunned.

“Nobody’s ever gotten me roses before. They’re really pretty. Thanks,” Mike mumbled, a little embarrassed. Seeing him glance back at the ruined kitchen, Jay understood why. For a guy who didn’t make grand gestures of affection, this attempt seemed to be about as good as it would get. 

“I appreciate the effort,” he said sincerely. Mike looked mortified, avoiding his eyes. 

“Shoulda just bought somethin’. I knew I couldn’t cook.”

“Why did you try, then?” Jay asked dryly, before remembering—anniversary. Be slightly less of a dick to your lover today, if possible.

“For the same reason you bought flowers, idiot,” Mike retorted, unfazed—because, anniversary or not, they were both kind of mean. Jay liked it that way. It made it harder to be sappy, and neither of them liked being sappy.

“You wanna just order a pizza?” Mike asked. Jay laughed.

“Sure. Put pineapples on it.”

Mike’s face scrunched up in distaste.

“It’s my anniversary!” Jay declared, voice full of mock indignation.

“Fine, fine, weirdo.”

While Mike ordered the pizza, Jay started cleaning up the disaster area of a kitchen, scraping the bricks of coal (what were they even supposed to be in the first place?) into the garbage. He cleared away the scattered food, piling the utensils and dishes into the dishwasher. Whatever didn’t fit he just set in the sink. Mike wiped off the counter, and brought in a little desk fan that he set on the countertop to clear the air. He also put the flowers in a glass vase full of water—well, not quite a vase. A glass cup, really. But he didn’t have anything else, and it still looked nice. 

“Good enough. Are your hands okay?” Jay asked, and Mike shrugged.

“Just a few small cuts. Nothing major. Probably shouldn’t finger you tonight, though,” he quipped, and Jay rolled his eyes.

“If anyone’s getting fingered tonight, it’s you,” he huffed, plopping down onto the couch. Mike’s face flushed as he sat down next to him, turning on the TV.

“Oh, come on. Do I have to?”

“Suck it up, it’s my anniversary.”

Jay gave him a smug grin, but kept his tone joking, because he didn’t want to be too mean. 

“Isn’t it supposed to be _our_ anniversary?” Mike grumbled.

“It’ll be our anniversary when you get the balls to kiss me in public,” Jay responded glibly, before freezing. He hadn’t meant to say that at all (though he had thought it before), but he wasn’t even drunk. He had no excuse. Damn it. Jay took a breath, gearing up to apologize.

“Am I allowed to?” Mike asked, more confused than offended. Jay tilted his head, surprised.

“What do you mean?”

“I didn’t think you’d be okay with it.”

“...well, I am,” Jay said, though it was a fair point. While he’d never been against it, he’d never exactly encouraged it either.

“Uh, okay. I’ll do that, then. Next time we’re out.”

Mike’s face was red, and he avoided Jay’s eyes.

“Are _you_ okay with it?” He asked, uncertain. Mike paused. 

“Yeah, I guess it’s just embarrassing,” he started, before backpedaling frantically. “Not like that! It’s not you, it’s like—it’s kind of—in front of other people feels too—too—uh...“

“Sappy?” Jay finished, amused. Mike nodded, defeated.

“I’m not asking you to make out with me in front of the world.”

“I know that,” Mike mumbled. “But still, it’s—it’s a big step or whatever.”

“Kissing me in public? Not sex, or—I don’t know, anything else?” Jay asked, incredulous. 

“For us, yeah! You know, I had to _tell_ Rich we were dating! He couldn’t figure it out on his own. He had no idea. Thought I was joking at first.”

Jay blinked. Huh. He supposed he could understand the confusion. Their behavior barely changed in front of their friends. And why should it? It would just make them feel awkward, right?

“And when we go out, we never go anywhere that’s, like, romantic.”

“Yeah, because all those restaurants are overpriced and too fucking dark inside.”

“I know, and I don’t actually want to, I’m just trying to say that it—it feels like nothing’s changed, even after we started dating,” Mike admitted, and Jay realized this sounded familiar. 

“I was even...I was kinda worried you’d forgotten it was our anniversary.”

It was Jay’s turn to blush. He’d thought the same about Mike. Now he felt a little bad. They were too similar sometimes.

“Shit, sorry. I’m just complaining,” Mike said guiltily. Jay shook his head. It was true that nothing had changed, but he’d thought that it would be better that way. Neither of them liked being sappy, after all. However, he’d had no intention of completely erasing any attempts at affection. Jay frowned, concerned that he might be unwittingly radiating anti-romanticism.

“I don’t have a problem with being romantic,” he said hesitantly. Mike looked unconvinced, because he hadn’t said anything particularly convincing. 

“Err. I mean I would...kind of like it...if you were more...” This was killing him, and Mike could see it.

“Sappy?” He gave Jay’s word back to him, and Jay nodded, the tables having turned in a very annoying fashion. Mike smiled.

“Yeah. So would I.”

“...You want _you_ to be sappy or _me_ to be sappy?” Jay asked, snapping back from the miserable pit of honesty and open feelings he’d merely dipped his toe in. 

“Both, actually.”

“Can’t do it. No deal.”

“Hey, this is supposed to go both ways, y’know,” Mike complained lightly. 

“If this is supposed to go both ways, why aren’t you ever on the bottom?” Jay teased, because talking about sex was much easier than talking about emotions. 

“Not like that—and hey! I’ve bottomed before.”

“Like, two times.”

“Four." **  
**

“That’s still a very uneven ratio.”

”Yeah, but it’s not like I’ve never done it.”

They were interrupted by a knock at the door.

“Aaaand as much as I’d like to continue this conversation, I’m pretty sure that’s the pizza,” Mike grinned, standing up to grab his wallet from the coffee table in front of the couch, greeting the delivery guy at the door. Jay contemplated continuing their conversation about him fucking Mike in the ass with the pizza guy present, but then figured that he shouldn’t. Not on their anniversary. He wasn’t that cruel. 

Mike came back and set the box on the coffee table.

“I appreciate you not saying anything in front of the pizza guy.”

“You knew I was going to?” Jay asked, impressed. 

“Of course I did. I’ve known you for more than ten seconds.”

Jay laughed, opening the pizza box to inspect the goods. 

“You know, we changed the subject,” Mike started. He turned his attention from the pizza to Mike. 

“Oh.”

Of course Jay knew. He was the one who changed it. Not on purpose, not entirely. But he had, because he wasn’t quite ready to be that emotionally vulnerable. 

“Um, I love you.”

Like that! That was too much, too fast! Jay felt his heart race and he realized he was grinning like an idiot already. He stamped it down, glancing at Mike, who was watching him nervously.

“I’ve never said it before. I figured today would be a good time to start,” he smiled sheepishly.

“Uh, thanks,” Jay stammered. “I, uh, I love you, too.”

Mike paused, as if unsatisfied with something. Jay flushed, thinking he hadn’t sounded sincere, and opened his mouth to speak. 

“I love you,” Mike repeated, his voice stronger this time. “You’re annoying and amazing and the funniest person I’ve ever met—besides myself—and you’re incredibly hot, even when you act like an asshole. You know a lot about really fucked-up niche horror movies, and even though I think that’s weird, I love it when you talk about them. You bought me flowers for our anniversary that I wasn’t even sure you remembered and that’s the nicest thing that anyone’s ever done for me. I love you. And even though neither of us like being sappy, I still want to, because I love you and I want you to know that. And I would also totally make out with you in public like weird horny teenagers because I want everyone to know about us and be jealous of me.”

Jay’s mouth hung open as he blinked, attempting to process the word vomit that had just washed over him. Mike winced. 

“Sorry. That was too much. But, uh, I wanted to tell you.”

Jay reeled, overwhelmed by the genuine affection that Mike was radiating. No, it was more than affection, and Jay knew it, he knew the name, too. But he didn’t know what to do about it. 

Shit. His face grew bright red as he desperately tried to figure out how to reciprocate it, because he _wanted_ to, he did, he just didn’t know how. He wanted Mike to know he felt the same way, he loved him just as much, but he didn’t have the words, he never did. 

“I...I, uh. I don’t know what...to say.“

“Don’t strain yourself,” Mike teased, but Jay could see warmth in his eyes, because he didn’t say it to get something back. He just said it because he wanted Jay to know. 

It was so fucking sappy that Jay couldn’t pretend to not like it anymore. 

“...Can I kiss you?” He asked, giving up on talking, because the words wouldn’t be enough.

“Yeah.”

Jay leaned forward and kissed him, sweet and gentle as he tried to make Mike understand that he loved him as much or maybe even more, that he was so fucking happy to have him and he never wanted to let him go, that even though this was sappy as hell he didn’t care. 

Mike smiled, kissing back, and Jay knew he got the message.

**Author's Note:**

> this quarantine got me bored as hell. we living thru a major worldwide historical event and im here writing RLM fanfic. radical. anyway this one gets pretty fluffy and fluff is not my strong suit (if I've got one), so I tried to make it feel like realistic dialogue considering their personalities but lemme know if I missed the mark. always room 2 improve, and there's nothing else to do but write more anyways lmao


End file.
